


Secondhand

by SynapticFirefly



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Marijuana, Teen Hijinx, mild drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7751491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SynapticFirefly/pseuds/SynapticFirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cartman does what he does best: peer pressuring impressionable Jews the only way he knows how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secondhand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicholeloveskyman](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nicholeloveskyman).



> Happy Birthday, Nic!!!

Let’s fast forward the boring shit. It’s spring, it’s after school, and the four of them were stretched out on a ratty-ass couch in Cartman’s basement. Liane, bless her neglectful heart, was out working her second shift and that meant no parents to bust their chops to get their homework done.

It also meant doing stupid shit teenage boys have done since the invention of weed.

And speaking of weed, Kyle was just not having it. “Dude!” he snapped, waving away the smoke rings coming out of Cartman’s mouth and against his ear. As Cartman laughed, Kyle shoved his way from under Cartman's arm for the smoke-free zone on the other side of the couch.

Said asshole blew a few more smoke rings towards the ceiling then handed the blunt back to Kenny. “Square.”

Stan paused from his sit ups to look at the smoke rings in confusion. “That's a circle, Cartman.”

“50’s lingo,” Cartman said smugly and casually kicked his feet up on the rickety coffee table. “You uncultured swine would never understand.”

“ _Cry-Baby_ doesn’t count as culture,” Kyle drawled.

Cartman snorted. “Never trust a man who hates on a John Waters movie.”

Kyle picked up his backpack and fished for his homework. “Then break up with me.”

“Ha, as if I’d let you take the easy way out!”

Kenny shrugged at their antics and offered the blunt to Stan. “Wanna cool down there, Hercules?”

To Kyle’s horror, Stan paused again to seriously consider the offer. “Stan!”

“Oh, come on, Kyle,” Stan gave him an easy smile. “It’s legal in Colorado. But I’ll pass. Drug test next week.”

Cartman smirked and took the blunt instead. “What a tight leash Coach Walter has on ya, quarterback dog.”

Kyle kicked Cartman in the thigh for that. “A lot of shade from someone who can’t run a _lap_ , let alone throw a football.”

“I'm not a brain dead athlete, Kyle. Don't you watch 80's flicks? I was born to be an entrepreneur. CEO, even. Way more successful.”

Kenny blew a trail of smoke straight at Cartman. “Or a theater scream queen.”

Stan laughed while Cartman flipped them off, but Mama Kyle resurfaced so the chitchat was postponed for what they were originally here for: sociology mid-term project. Kenny already tuned out Kyle's task dividing and went back to toking it up. Cartman followed after him to argue over the blunt.

Even Stan started firing up the TV to play some Grand Theft Auto. Kyle irritably realized he was going to have to do all the hard work. Again.

While he sighed angrily and got to work on his portion of the project, Cartman kicked Kenny off the couch arm and decided to do some old fashioned Jew-watching. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip at the way Kyle chewed on his stylus. Electric blue eyes gleamed with renewed interest. Kyle caught the stare, glared at him, and then refocused on his tablet.

Honestly, the whole point of him and Kenny scoring a quarter pound of purple kush was to see what Kyle was like stoned. He counted on Kyle resisting, but put his chips on Stan's participation to influence him. Disappointment colored Cartman's thoughts, but it was quickly shelved. There was no such thing as failure, only failed tactics. 

“You know, if you guys paid half as much attention on blowing shapes, we’d have gotten this project halfway done by now,” Kyle finally snapped, though it was probably more from discomfort. When Cartman looked at Kyle, he _really_ looked at him. Like he was something to eat - literally. 

Cartman rolled his eyes to lower their intensity and snatched the blunt away from Kenny.

“Fuck, Kenny! Don’t hog this shit!” he exclaimed. “Puff, puff, share! You can get shot for less shit than that.”

“You’re white, dude. You think this is Compton?” Kenny quipped. He shot up when the doorbell rang upstairs. “PIZZA! Fuck yeah! Get your wallet, Stan!”

Stan whined and paused his game. “Is it really my turn?” But Kenny was already halfway up the stairs whether someone was going to pay or not.

Kyle looked up from his tablet. “I paid last time, remember?”

Cartman grinned. “You _would_ keep tabs wouldn’t you, Jew?”

“Fuck off with the stereotypes, asshole!”

“Jesus,” Stan grumbled and ambled up the stairs. “You guys just don’t stop, do you?” Nothing changed between them. Just the sexual shit. It was both comforting and annoying.

All of a sudden, there was nothing but him, Kyle, and the doobie between his fingers. The tiny blunt barely touched his lips again when he found sharp green eyes incriminating his behavior. “Change your mind, babe?” he asked lazily, flipping the cig between his fingers in offering.

Those beautiful eyes narrowed with challenge. “You couldn’t get that shit in me if you tried.” Cartman’s head tilted, his thoughts whirring to life when Kyle set the tablet down and opened his palm to him. “That’s enough. Your eyes are turning red.”

His thoughts clicked and his eyes gleamed again. Kyle hesitated at that, but only for a moment. 

“Yessss?” Cartman purred out lazily. “That’s what happens when you toke, brah. You know, if you had some of this shit, I bet you wouldn’t act like a stuck up bitch.”

Kyle lunged for the blunt, but Cartman wasn’t zonked out of his reflexes just yet. He raised it over his head and then stuck his foot up and kicked Kyle straight back into the other side of the couch.

“Did you just kick me, you asshole?!” Kyle snapped. He nearly threw his tablet at him in retaliation.

“Yeah I just kicked you. And here I thought _I_ was high,” he said back with a lopsided grin. “You get your Jew fingers off of my blunt, Kahl.” Kyle fumed and rubbed at his sore stomach. “Oh wow, are you okay?” His words took on a honeyed tone.  

“You kicked me! Does it look like I’m okay?!” Kyle was exaggerating, they both knew it, but practically everything was fair game in their challenge to incriminate each other.

"Oh, baby. So sorry," he cooed, then took a long deep drag of the blunt before setting it down.

Kyle glared suspiciously as Cartman started to crawl after him. “What are you doing?”

Wordless and intense, Kyle could only stare when Cartman climbed on top of him to splay his fingers along the spot where he kicked his lover. With a gentle soothing motion to catch the Jew off guard, he inched his way deep under the sweater.

Kyle’s toxic glare sheepishly disappeared by Cartman’s apologetic smile. “Jesus…” he grumbled and looked away.  “You didn’t kick that hard.” No response. It unnerved him. He tried pissing him off instead. “Huh, you actually look a lot hotter when your big mouth is shutmfph-!”

Cartman lunged and crushed him into the couch. Kyle shouted in surprise as thick fingers grabbed his jaw to keep his head in place. It quickly dawned on him just what Cartman was trying to do. Kyle quickly squirmed and tried to kick him off, but Cartman was too proficient in the art of pinning. And too fucking heavy.

Kyle kept his mouth firmly shut when Cartman kissed him, but he was naive if he thought that was the end of Cartman's scheme. A sudden grunt of pleasure left Kyle’s lips when Cartman pushed his legs apart and rocked his groin between them. His mouth pried open through a mix of pleasure and force, Cartman quickly sealed his mouth over Kyle's.

“Mfmff! Mmhmmmf… mfmfff!” Kyle shouted and tried to buck Cartman off of him, but Cartman had no intention of letting up. He intended on devouring everything that escaped his lips. But no matter how hard Kyle pinched or tried to dig through the thick hoodie draped on Cartman’s shoulders, it only encouraged the heavy boy to deepen the pressure until he caved.

A soft whine of disgust rumbled down Kyle’s chest as a foul smoke drifted down his throat along with Cartman’s tongue. The invading sensation and the maddening grind of their hips slowly turned from resistance to arousal the longer Cartman had him pinned.

Kyle couldn’t help but moan in delight. The erratic buckling of his hips was no longer meant for escape but more contact. They quickly ended up rocking as one in a haze of lust and recreational weed.

Cartman finally pulled off and smirked in victory when tendrils of smoke flickered out of Kyle’s lips. Those green eyes were lost, but relaxed, and entirely focused on the boy on top of him just exactly how he wanted it.

He tried to say something, a quip or an insult, but he couldn’t muster any more brain power when it either went straight to the weed or his cock. He could only watch and rock against his lover the moment Kyle finished exhaling the smoke and hoarsely commanded, “More.”

Cartman let out a needy groan before he eagerly sat up and fumbled for the blunt on the table. Kyle’s eyes narrowed at the offering. "Don't be a bitch, Cartman."

"I'm the bitch?!" Cartman laughed. He took another deep draw from the blunt and went down on Kyle again for a reward of titillating groans and that sinful slide of hips. 

Back and forth they went. Cartman would toke up, let the smoke simmer in his lungs and throat before licking into Kyle’s wet eager mouth for a taste. He coughed the first few times, but Cartman didn’t let up. His tough loving earned him a bit of resisted buckling and delicious squirms until Kyle no longer inhaled like a bitch.

Cartman rocked harder and deeper into his pliant lover’s hips each time and savored the experience of smoke fueled kisses and lazy arousal. There was something heavy and intimate when Kyle started running his fingers through his brown locks and when Kyle tugged too hard for the blunt, Cartman thought he couldn’t be more in love.

Their playtime was cut short when Kenny and Stan came back down with three large boxes of pizza.

“A-awwwww…!” Stan whined. “Come on, guys! No one wants to see that!”

Kenny’s grin nearly split his cheeks when Cartman pulled up and glared at them, but it wasn’t him he was paying attention to. Kyle looked utterly relaxed on the couch and, much to Stan’s horror, coyly blew a thick trail of smoke in Cartman's direction.

“Good shit, right?” Kenny chirped.

Kyle looked up at Cartman with something mischievous in his eyes. “Could be better.” And if that wasn’t a challenge for something more illegal later, then nothing was.


End file.
